


I will be here (don't you cry)

by Emily_Davison



Series: You'll Be in My Heart [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Crying, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Character Death, Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark "Dad", Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Platonic Relationships, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_Davison/pseuds/Emily_Davison
Summary: Peter has a nightmare that feels a bit too real...
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: You'll Be in My Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723405
Comments: 16
Kudos: 281
Collections: The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics





	I will be here (don't you cry)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, hope you're all well :) here is another chapter, I'm falling a bit behind on writing at the moment as I only managed to finish the latest chapter for this series a couple days ago, it's a long one and I loved writing it so looking forward to getting that one uploaded! I'm not sure when my next update for Beautiful Boy will be as I need to get started on writing more chapters for it and don't want to rush the stories, but should hopefully get one up soon! Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this :)

It was too hot, the middle of April and temperatures were reaching numbers one would expect to find in the summer months. Peter had excused himself early from tea early today, having barely touched his potatoes and eaten a measly portion of chicken, and Tony was left with an empty feeling in his heart. It had been three weeks now since the man had received the phone call and Peter was sleeping marginally better, but the billionaire knew that they were just taking baby steps. The essential guide to caring for a super-powered, psychologically damaged and emotionally withdrawn teenager certainly couldn't be adopted in less than a month. Although they had made progress, Peter was eating (mostly) three meals a day and wasn't disappearing into his room every night, Tony knew from personal experience that they still had quite a way to go and learn more of the intimate, personal intricacies about each other.

Tony had acquired a sixth sense when it came to Peter, he knew when the boy needed to be alone. A silent communication often transpired between them; Peter never needed to directly address him, not that he would opt for that anyway if he was feeling depressed, the elder simply read the signs through the kid's body language. The teen went quiet and his slender frame appeared to hunch in on itself, his brows furrowed and an empty expression crossed his pale face, something Tony could easily relate to. Peter had excused himself from the man's presence many times within the first few days of moving in, but it hadn't occurred as frequently since Tony invited him into his bed that one time. 

The older man was no stranger to witnessing Peter cry. The first time he laid eyes on the boy when he arrived at the hospital, his eyes were red-rimmed and his arms were loosely wrapped around his chest which, Tony recognised, was a desperate attempt to self soothe. Peter had burst into tears the night before May's funeral and he only calmed down sufficiently enough to get his breathing back when the man guided the boy's head into his lap and combed his fingers through the chestnut curls until he passed out from exhaustion. Peter rarely allowed him to see the most vulnerable side after that, but if Tony didn't see it, he heard it when he walked past the teen's locked door. 

The heat always seemed to get progressively worse in the evening and it was bordering on overbearing in Peter's room. It was only half seven, but he decided to take a cold shower and go straight to bed. He didn't want Tony to see his red-rimmed eyes again. It was the three week anniversary now and the onslaught of heavy emotions which accompanied this unbearable marking of the day had overwhelmed him into silence ever since he opened his eyes in the morning. He certainly didn't expect to sleep tonight, but he could still give it his best shot just how he approached any problem, just like Tony always taught him.

...

Peter woke up to sunlight streaming through the thin gap between his curtains from where he hadn't properly pulled them to and he could feel a narrow strip of heat on his skin, spanning from his fore-head to his chin. When he rolled over to check the clock, he was surprised to see that it was one in the afternoon, but when he stumbled into the kitchen/living area, he was even more surprised to see that Tony wasn't up yet. The empty pizza boxes from the night before hadn't been put in the bin yet. His guardian was usually an early riser and Peter was becoming well accustomed to getting woken up to a firm knock on the door and the smell of burning waffles or bacon wafting into his room, especially in the first week when the older man was still teaching himself how to cook after barely bothering before taking in a kid. 

A hundred thoughts whirled around Peter's head as he shuffled back towards Tony's bedroom, the door pulled shirt to indicate that he hadn't been out since last night. Peter had never heard him go to bed; he was usually a heavy sleeper once he managed to clonk out and with his recent insomnia spells, he would take all the rest he could get. The teen padded down the corridor and softly knocked on the door, quietly pushing it open when he received no reply.

"Tony?" He called and his gaze was immediately drawn to the immobile figure curled up on the far side of the queen sized bed. Tony's back was to the door. Peter slowly approached the unresponsive lump under the covers, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest and his airway seizing up, causing his breathing to become restricted and be release in small puffs of air. It wasn't like Tony to be in bed for this long, it just wasn't and every fiber of Peter's being was screaming at him that something was very wrong here.

"Tony?" Peter spoke again, slightly louder this time, with a tingle of desperation etching through his voice. His heart was beating very quickly now and he was surprised that he managed to stay standing upright with the way his body was responding to the situation. He rounded the bottom poster of the bed and his frantic, wide eyed gaze focused soley on his guardian's sleeping form. Tony's eyes were closed and his expression would have been somewhat peaceful if it weren't for the deathly pale complexion of his usually bright, alert features. May looked like she was sleeping too. She was, of course, but she would never wake up again.

"Tony, wake up." Peter's mouth was so dry it was like he hadn't had a drink in days and he reached forward to gently shake the man's strong shoulder. When he received no response, he shook again, his efforts becoming a little erratic and rough. Tony wasn't a heavy sleeper like him, if he was he wouldn't have heard him come into his room the other night when he was desperate for any form of comfort. 

"T-Tony, w-wake up! Please wake up!" Peter cried, voice increasing in volume, which only served to magnify the panic-stricken fear embedded in his heart and he shook the man's shoulder again in despair. The force of his hand only resulted in the body rolling on its back, the elder's arms splayed across the mattress in an image that almost resembled the shape of a cross, but, still, he did not open his eyes. Sobs erupted from Peter's throat, ragged breaths escaping his lips as the tight feeling in his chest failed to find any source of relief and he flung himself onto the mattress beside the body.

"T-Tony, D-D-Daddy, p-please no!" Peter wept, his fingers curling into the man's black pajama top as he desperately shook his body again and again. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" He screeched, tears streaming down his face, causing his vision of the man's lifeless face to blur. He placed his hands over Tony's broad, muscled chest, cries thickening when the steady, reassuring rhythmic thump of the genius' heartbeat was no-where to be found. "No, Dad! You can't leave me, please! You promised, Dad! No!" Peter screamed, burying his wet face in the soft cotton, positioning his head underneath Tony's chin, where it always went when the man comforted him. "Please wake up, please, wake up, wake up..."

...

"...er, wake up! Wake up, Peter!" Someone was yelling and shaking him by the shoulders. He knew that voice and he knew that large, warm hands that were firmly grasping him. He had felt them touch him before. "Come on, kid, let me see those eyes." Only one person used that soft tone tinged with concern and attentiveness when speaking to him. The hands pulled him up into a sitting position and, although he thrashed madly in the man's grasp, his mind was quickly returning to the world of the living. One last scream escaped him and his eyes snapped open, his eyelids clumped together with sleep and tears and his face was flushed and wet from crying.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, baby, it was just a nightmare, shh...I'm right here..." He was held against a sturdy chest and familiar arms were wrapped around him, tightly, a slight rocking motion helping to soothe him. All these words, earnest declarations that had reached his ears before just a handful of nights ago. Peter looked up to come face to face with dark chocolate eyes similar to his own.

"T-Tony?" The teen spoke, his voice cracking under the strain of his sobbing and his stuttered breathing barely eased the tightness in his chest. He could barely see the man's face in the dark and Tony seemed to be following his train of thought, as he leaned across to switch the lamp on.

"Yeah, buddy, it's me," Tony murmured as he did so, both of them squinting harshly at the sudden bright light which bathed the room in a yellow glow. He was wearing the same black top, but he was alive. He was there in the flesh and blood, the warm calloused skin of his right hand gently pushing the hair which had clung to Peter's sweaty fore-head away from his face. The reassuring thump of his pulse reached the boy's ears and Peter held onto the man's pajama top in a white-knuckled grip, trying his hardest to control his breathing, tears still silently pouring down his cheeks.

"Y-you d-died, you're dead! N-no, no, you're _dead_! You left me, _you left me_!" Peter screamed, thrashing around in the billionaire's hold like a fish taken to shore, shaking his head in exhaustion and disbelief.

"No, no, Pete. Listen to me," Tony spoke, firmly grasping the boy's fore-arms, then moving to cup Peter's face, forcing him to look him in the eye. "Look at me, bud. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, you're not getting rid of me that easily." There was undeniable affection in his eyes, the diligence of his softly spoken words ringing truth for Peter and his heart ached with relief and a desperate need to be held when he realised that the horrors had just been a ridiculous figment of his imagination.

Peter reached up to run his shaky fingers over the man's face and sobs erupted from his heavy chest as he felt the unmistakable tickle of Tony's goatee beneath his touch. These weren't sad tears anymore, they were tears brought on by the consolation and dedicated care from the man holding him. "I'm sorry I woke you up." He chuckled, weakly and Tony scoffed at this, shaking his head in amusement and disbelief, whilst tenderly brushing the tears from the boy's cheeks.

"Kid, you've just had a nightmare. Don't apologise for something you can't control," Tony asserted. "Besides, nothing will stop me when it comes to making sure you're okay, bud," he admitted, brushing a lock of hair behind the teen's ear and Peter's heart jolted at the loving gesture.

He swallowed, thickly at the confession and smiled, timidly. "I know, Da-Tony," he mumbled, sheepishly ducking his head as a rosy blush covered both cheeks. It wasn't the first time he'd almost let _that_ word slip, but he usually managed to cover it up quickly or catch himself at the last second, assuming the man hadn't noticed. He was wrong, Tony just hadn't acknowledged it before his insides felt like he had just downed a pint of brandy when he heard _that_ word slip past the kid's lips.

Tony chuckled, warmly and hooked a finger underneath the boy's chin, lifting his face to meet his gaze again. "You can call me Dad if you want to, Pete. Between you and me, it would mean the world to me if you did. You've been my kid for a long while now, even before you came to live here. I think it's time that we made it official, don't you think?" Tony spoke, passionately, his eyes never leaving Peter's and the teen was filled from head to toe with warmth as he absorbed the billionaire's words.

"Really?" He croaked out, his eyes welling up again, but these weren't tears of sadness. A few dropped down his sticky cheeks. He knew that he probably looked a wreck, his curls sticking up everywhere and his eyes red-rimmed, but Tony had seen him like this before, had seen the worst part of him. He didn't leave then and he wasn't going to leave him now.

Tony stroked the tears away with the pad of his thumb and smiled, unconditional love bleeding through every touch and gesture. "Yeah, baby. I mean it more than anything that I've ever said to anyone before," he murmured.

A chocked sob escaped the boy and he surged forward to wrap his arms around the man's neck, burying his face in Tony's shoulder. His skin smelt of motor oil and his favourite mint scented shower gel and, to Peter, they were the best scents in the world. "Thank you, thank you, Dad..." He sobbed. A strong hand braced the back of head as one would a newborn baby and a sweet kiss was pressed to his damp cheek.

"Love you, little spider," Tony whispered.

"Love you too, Dad." Peter could finally breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want Peter to call Tony 'Dad' too early, but my natural way of writing these characters seems to make Tony very soft and affectionate, as shown in Endgame with Morgan. It also just felt like the right moment to slip it in there seeing as Peter just needed that cuddle and reassurance that Tony will always be there for him, so couldn't resist!


End file.
